


You Got It, Gearhead

by HMSquared



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Consent Issues, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Shenanigans, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Mirage | Elliott Witt's Bar, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25977736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HMSquared/pseuds/HMSquared
Summary: In which Rampart gets a little too hammered at Mirage’s bar.
Relationships: Rampart | Ramya Parekh & Mirage | Elliott Witt
Kudos: 34





	You Got It, Gearhead

**Author's Note:**

> I read Mirage and Rampart’s relationship like that of a brother and sister. They bicker and fight, but ultimately love each other.
> 
> I do think they seem to know each other. Rampart calls Mirage by his last name, something none of the other Legends do, and he calls her Gearhead. Hopefully the comics expand on it.

“So, how was your first day as a Legend?” Mirage chortled. Rampart sucked down her fifth shot and motioned for another.

“It was bloody amazing, Witt! I see what Octane means about the adrenaline rush.”

“Don’t turn into him, please,” he replied in a half-serious tone. She rolled her eyes with a smirk.

The bar was empty except for them. Everyone else was back at the ship, probably sleeping off that new season buzz. 

“What do you think of everybody so far?” Mirage asked, running a towel over the bar. Rampart swallowed her alcohol and thought.

“They’re all interesting.” A devious smile crossed her face. “Tell me, why are you so scared of Revenant?”

“The murder bot? Why would I be scared of him?” She raised an eyebrow.

“You’re squeaky.”

“Damn it. But seriously, stay away from him.” Rampart nodded.

The door to the bar swung open. Two guys stumbled in, both of them already drunk. Mirage wrinkled his nose but didn’t say a word.

“You still open?”

“Clearly,” Rampart chuckled. A glint appeared in the men’s eyes. They sidled up next to her, the younger one pointing to Mirage.

“I’d like to buy the pretty lady a drink.”

“Ah, young love,” he replied through gritted teeth. They didn’t seem to notice his tone, turning back to Rampart. Mirage watched them whisper in her ear, the guy on the left sliding a finger up her arm. He felt very uncomfortable.

The flirting continued for ten more minutes. Rampart didn’t have anything else, not that it mattered; she was drunk as a skunk. By the time Mirage cut the two guys off, her head was hovering above the bar.

“You need a walk home, sweetheart?” one of them cooed. Rampart drowsily nodded. Shooting each other gleeful looks, the guys helped her up.

Mirage could feel his heart playing pinball in his chest. He didn’t know what to say or do, but he couldn’t let them leave.

As he watched, the left guy slid his hand down Rampart’s back. He stopped over her butt and started to massage the area. The guy on the right tried to reach under the back of her shirt.

“Let her go.” Mirage’s voice was cold. The two men turned around, having seemingly forgotten he was there.

“We’re just taking her home, buddy.”

“So you can rape her?” The words felt strange coming out of his mouth. Both men tensed, still holding Rampart.

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Mirage sighed in annoyance. Reaching under the bar, he drew his Wingman. The two men jumped.

“I’ve killed a lot of people. Well, the same twelve people over and over, but you get my point. Now, she’s my best friend.” Mirage placed his finger on the trigger. “Let...her… go.”

The two men let go of Rampart and rushed out. Returning the gun to its compartment, Mirage looped his friend’s arm around one shoulder. She was fast asleep.

He got them back to the ship in one piece. Sure enough, everyone else was snoring away. Tiptoeing down the hall, Mirage cracked Rampart’s door open.

Two posters from the shop were hung up on the walls. There were paintball splatters and graffiti markings everywhere. He shook his head with a smile.

Mirage tucked Rampart into bed, pulling the covers tight. He then settled into a chair, propping his feet up.

“Thank you.” He glanced over to find her eyelids cracked.

“I’m sorry you were awake for that.”

“I’m not.” Rampart tiredly smiled. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Oh, come on. Ain’t no thing,” Mirage smirked. She shook her head.

“Thanks for having my back, Witt.”

“You got it, Gearhead.” Rampart drifted off to sleep, and Mirage snuck out five minutes later.


End file.
